


Accidental Voyerism

by Hawt_Shiznit



Category: The Real Ghostbusters
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 23:30:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawt_Shiznit/pseuds/Hawt_Shiznit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the haunted geranium debacle, Janine must spend the night at the firehouse.  Egon can't sleep, and accidentally stumbles onto a scene he wasn't meant to see and cannot forget, and that makes him confront an issue that he has been avoiding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accidental Voyerism

Egon slowly and miserably realized that he had drifted awake. He looked blearily over at his alarm clock, just close enough for him to make out the fuzzy numbers – they read 12:28 A.M. He hadn’t been asleep very long. There had been a hard bust that day, and with no small amount of envy, Egon noted that his teammates were all sleeping soundly. Their rhythmic breathing (and light snoring, in Peter’s case…) filled the dark bedroom as Egon turned over, frustrated to be rapidly regaining alertness. The noise of the successful sleepers seemed to grow louder and more aggravating and after tossing hopelessly for a few more minutes Egon gave up and decided to go fix himself a cup of cocoa, which had in the past shown to be helpful in relieving his insomnia.

He put on his glasses and slippers and made his way silently out the bedroom door. The soft light on the landing guided him downstairs one level to the kitchen where he turned on only the range hood light – Slimer was passed out on top of the fridge, snoring heavily, his face lightly dusted with what looked like the unnaturally orange powder of cheese puffs. Careful not to disturb the ghost’s slumber, Egon proceeded to quietly fix his drink. As he was stirring the warming milk on the stovetop, his mind drifted to the day’s ordeal.

Yesterday he had given Janine a geranium that had most unfortunately turned out to be haunted. Egon was deeply annoyed with himself for not trusting his earlier instinct that something had gone strange with the capture of the greenhouse ghost. His carelessness had ruined his gift, put lives in danger, and caused an enormous amount of property damage. And to top it off, now Janine was angry with him because the plant had destroyed her apartment, and Egon himself had added the final bit of injury by soaking the whole place down with a fire hose, guaranteeing severe water damage in addition to the destruction wrought by the killer plant. Sure, the water strategy had worked and everyone was safe and the ghost was captured, but the rescue had not gone the way he had envisioned it: him dashing to the rescue, heroically defeating the monster, Janine running to him adoringly and maybe even giving him a kiss like she did that time when he returned from the Netherworld after molecularly destabilizing himself. Instead he had fallen on his ass and received a scolding from Janine and a teasing from Peter. Lovely. He grimaced and slowly stirred the cocoa powder into the milk, a ritual he had practiced so many times it barely required conscious thought. Staring blankly at the kitchen cabinet as he sipped the hot drink, he recalled his fear when he’d heard her distinctive shrieks from the street. He had burst through her apartment door to find her wrapped in the tentacle-like vines of the plant, struggling but thankfully apparently unharmed. At the time he had been thinking only of how to stop the possessed geranium, but now, safely sipping his hot chocolate, he thought about how she had looked in the plant’s grasp – it circled around her waist, bending her over, her backside facing them. Her short skirt was slightly hitched up, exposing most of her shapely legs, the red fabric stretched tight across her rear. It was an angle he’d never seen her at before, and thinking about her bent over like that was very appealing to him indeed. Her ass and her breasts had bounced a little as she fought against the vines, and with an involuntary surge of testosterone he imagined they would bounce very similarly under different, more preferable circumstances, such as against his pounding hips…

Slimer belched loudly but did not wake up. The noise jolted Egon out of his fantasy, and he was immediately ashamed of the thoughts he’d been having and the fact that he was beginning to get aroused by them. Logically he knew that sexual thoughts and needs were perfectly natural, even for him, but Egon tried to avoid dwelling on and indulging these thoughts and needs too frequently. He did not think that masturbation was very dignified and he was worried about getting caught, as it was hard to find total privacy in the firehouse. His body and mind had been known to compensate for this repression by granting him some exceptionally erotic wet dreams that would put Peter’s porn stash to shame, so Egon would usually just treat himself to a quick jerking off in the shower every now and then to keep the dreams at bay. It saved him having to launder his pajamas and sheets so often, at any rate. Another reason for this preventative measure was that his dreams almost always starred Janine, and it was awkward for him to face her in the morning after those spectacular subconscious sexual encounters. If he took matters into his own hands, so to speak, he could at least make a conscious effort not to imagine it was her hands or mouth or vagina stroking him to completion. Sadly for him, those mental efforts usually failed and somehow thoughts of her would sneak their way in and find him grunting and bucking silently under the shower stream, which washed away the evidence of his lapse in control.  Egon frowned into his now empty mug. Standing in the kitchen in the middle of the night in his pajamas with half an erection and Slimer stinking up the air above him was not a good use of his time. He could at least be productive during his insomnia – there was a trap that needed some minor repair work, and that could hopefully take his treacherous, unprofessional mind off of Janine’s bouncing curves.

There was only one slight problem with this plan. Since her apartment was uninhabitable after the days’ events, Janine was currently sleeping on the sofa bed in the T.V. room, where the broken trap happened to be. Egon considered his options for a moment. Janine had had just as crazy of a day as they had – she was probably exhausted, sound asleep and he could easily tiptoe in and retrieve the trap without disturbing her. Or, it was conceivable that she was still awake. He knew that Janine tended to keep later hours than the rest of them, and it wasn’t uncommon for her to be up late reading or playing a card game with Slimer. Maybe she was still so mad at him that she couldn’t sleep. On that miserable thought, Egon decided to investigate silently – if Janine was asleep he’d grab the trap and go. If she was awake, he’d back silently away and up to the bedroom. He went out into the dark hall and put a hand on the wall to guide him. He thought about the tools he would need to retrieve from the lab, which happily helped start returning his crotch to a state of rest. There was a very faint glow coming from the partially cracked door, it looked like she’d kept the night-light plugged in – perfect, that would help him find the trap without walking into anything and potentially waking her. Egon crept up to the door and was about to peek in when he heard a soft moan. It was an odd noise, and Egon’s first thought was that she must have aches and pains from being manhandled by the geranium. Maybe he should offer her assistance, a hot water bottle or some aspirin. Then again, she could be asleep and just dreaming, so he proceeded to put his eye to the door crack to visually assess the situation.

Janine was visible on the sofa bed, illuminated by the soft glow of the night-light. She appeared to be awake, sitting up slightly against several pillows, but her glasses were off and her eyes were closed. Her knees were slightly bent off of the mattress and just when Egon was about to speak and offer her that hot water bottle, he realized with a shock that both of her hands were between her legs. She wore dark blue, silky-looking pajamas, and though he couldn’t be 100% sure from his vantage point, her hands appeared to actually be down the waistband of her pants. She made another noise, a sort of low humming in her throat. Egon thought his heart stopped momentarily as he put it together – she was doing on that sofa bed what he usually did in the shower. He felt panic for a second and backed up a bit from the door, but stopped in his tracks when he saw her bring her right hand up to her lips, wet her fingers, then return to it’s place between her spread thighs. “Oh god, this is so wrong…” he thought to himself, and his face burned hot with shame as he stared. Every second he stood there gawking was a horrible violation of her privacy, not to mention professional ethics. But it was such a surreal moment he found himself unable to move, transfixed by her expression in the half light – a sort of slight smile, with her delicate brows faintly knitted in concentration. It was an expression he’d only seen in his own masturbatory dreams and she was even more gorgeous making it in reality than he’d imagined. His erection was back with a vengeance, all thoughts of the broken ghost trap flittered away. His heart jumped again when she made another sound,

“Egon…”

She saw him watching! But before he could choke out an apology and explanation he realized that she’d said his name in the same breathy sigh she’d made when her wet fingers returned to whatever they were doing between her legs. Her eyes were still closed, she hadn’t seen him. Maybe he’d imagined it….

“Oh, Egonnn….” She moaned again, quietly but this time so clearly that he knew he wasn’t mistaken. His jaw dropped. Sweet baby Proteus, she was touching herself and thinking about him. This was a forbidden fantasy come true, and now he could no more tear himself away from that door than he could flap his arms and land on the moon. Seeing Janine in this state of sexual abandon with his name on her lips had him completely aroused in an instant, and without really thinking (indeed, he was aroused beyond the capacity for rational thought….) he pressed his own palm against his crotch in an effort to sooth some of the growing ache. She continued to sigh and occasionally turned her head side to side restlessly. She licked her full pink lips – he squeezed himself a little firmer through his nightshirt. He was trying not to actively stroke himself, but her next words got his hand moving:

“Ooh, Egon… fuck me, please…”

Good lord… he knew Janine could let loose some pretty impressive curses, but hearing her use that word (which he himself never used) in that context sent a hot surge of blood to his already engorged penis. Desperately he tried to oblige her in spirit, rubbing and squeezing himself with increasing pressure. Janine’s movements were speeding up as well, her hips shifting, her fingers returning to her mouth and back between her legs more frequently. Egon could see her glistening fingers and wondered how much of the moisture was saliva and how much was her sexual fluids, fluids that would be lubricating his entry if only he were actually doing as she requested. He thought he could see her nipples hard against her shirt, peaking the silky fabric, but mostly he watched her face, flushed and glowing, fairly certain in that moment that it was the most fascinatingly erotic thing he had ever seen. Her hips began rising off of the sofa, her crotch grinding into her hands as her breathing became more erratic. Some instinct that he didn’t fully understand made him suspect that she might be as close to orgasm as he already was to his. She licked her fingers one more time and returned them to between her thighs with a soft, desperate sounding sigh. He imagined her delicate fingers parting the soft pink folds of her labia, poor substitutes for his penis that he wished so painfully he was sinking into her. He thought about her inner muscles flexing around him, the firm rugae of her vagina massaging his length, milking him towards release. He imagined her fingers guiding his hand from where their bodies were joined, hot, sticky and swollen, up to the hard nub of her clitoris, showing him how to circle and rub her just right. How good it would feel to pleasure her, hold her and kiss her passionately, so different from the quick and chaste pressing together their lips and bodies had done in their past hugs and their one kiss…

“Oh please, please, Egon…” she begged in a soft breathy voice slightly higher than normal, her pelvis undulating in fluid, smooth rhythmic waves. “Oh god, so good…”

“Yesss…” he hissed in silent reply, pumping his hips furiously, one hand braced against the wall, the other rubbing himself roughly against his soft nightshirt. Janine began whimpering and her pelvic thrusts lost their rhythm as her mouth dropped open and her eyes squeezed more tightly shut as her orgasm overtook her.  Egon had never witnessed anything so beautiful in all his life. Janine arched off of the sofa bed with whispered oaths and obscenities, Egon’s name interchanged with God’s. With an inaudible grunt he came rather violently himself, spurting hot semen against grey fabric, wishing her arms were around his neck, her breasts pressed against his chest, her body receiving his.

They both rested for a few moments, her panting on her back, hands still beneath her waistband, him leaning against the wall, gently caressing his spent, hypersensitive member back down. Suddenly he remembered where he was and what he was doing, and that he was in very real danger of discovery if Janine recovered enough to hear his labored breathing on the other side of the door. He took one last longing look at her face, now arranged into the perfect composition of relaxed post-orgasmic bliss, and backed silently away from the door. He turned the range light off in the kitchen – he’d forgotten it, since he had planned to return there to work on the trap and make another cup of cocoa. He left Slimer snoring stickily atop the fridge and crept upstairs to the bedroom to find his roommates still fast asleep and blissfully unaware of the debauchery that had taken place below. Egon changed into a new nightshirt and crawled into bed, his mind racing with what he had just seen and done. There was no doubt about it now – he had been presented with undeniable evidence that Janine wanted him, at least sexually (apparently Peter had been telling him the truth after all… Egon thought he’d been joking all this time). And Egon’s own powerful reaction had left no room for any more self-denial that he wanted her in return. It was all extremely terrifying. He had no idea what to do. But the force of his orgasm combined with the lateness of the hour had sapped his body of strength, and he found himself powerfully drawn to sleep despite this conundrum. He decided to spend tomorrow hiding in the lab and pondering how he should handle this startling turn of events, but for now he turned into his pillow, allowing himself one last fantasy for the night, of spooning up against her and dozing off. His last thought before deep sleep overtook him.


End file.
